Just spent the evening at the club, watching all the shy boys try not to stare at my tits. Honey, look all you want—I know exactly what this body does to you. Had this one guy, all nervous, finally approach me. I let him buy me a drink, then whispered exactly how I wanted to ride his face until my thighs shook, how I'd grind my wet pussy on his tongue and make him taste every drop. The way his cock strained against his pants was the real compliment. I live for that power, for reducing a man to pure, desperate need with just a few filthy words. Anyone else get off on the verbal foreplay more than the act itself sometimes?